, for
true love is also an ambition.

"Your majesty," said Marguerite, with a sort of mocking disdain, "has no
confidence in the star that shines over the head of every king!"

"Ah," said Henry, "I vainly look for mine now, I cannot see it; 'tis
hidden by the storm which now threatens me!"

"And suppose a woman's breath were to dispel this tempest, and make the
star reappear, brilliant as ever?"

"'Twere difficult."

"Do you deny the existence of this woman?"

"No, I deny her power."

"You mean her will?"

"I said her power, and I repeat, her power. A woman is powerful only
when love and interest are combined within her in equal degrees; if
either sentiment predominates, she is, like Achilles, vulnerable; now as
to this woman, if I mistake not, I cannot rely on her love."

Marguerite made no reply.

"Listen," said Henry; "at the last stroke of the bell of Saint Germain
l'Auxerrois you must have thought of regaining your liberty, sacrificed
for the purpose of destroying my followers. My concern was to save my
life: that was the most essential thing. We lose Navarre, indeed; but
what is that compared with your being enabled to speak aloud in your
room, which you dared not do when you had some one listening to you in
yonder closet?"

Deeply absorbed as she was in her thoughts, Marguerite could not refrain
from smiling. The king rose and prepared to seek his own apartment, for
it was some time after eleven, and every one at the Louvre was, or
seemed to be, asleep.

Henry took three steps toward the door, then suddenly stopped as if for
the first time recollecting the motive of his visit to the queen.

"By the way, madame," said he, "had you not something to communicate to
me? or did you desire to give me an opportunity of thanking you for the
reprieve which your brave presence in the King's armory brought me? In
truth it was just in time, madame; I cannot deny it, you appeared like a
goddess of antiquity, in the nick of time to save my life."

"Unfortunate man!" cried Marguerite, in a muffled voice, and seizing her
husband's arm, "do you not see that nothing is saved, neither your
liberty, your crown, nor your life? Infatuated madman! Poor madman! Did
you, then, see nothing in my letter but a rendezvous? Did you believe
that Marguerite, indignant at your coldness, desired reparation?"

"I confess, madame," said Henry in astonishment, "I confess"--

Marguerite shrugged her shoulders with an expression imp